


Heat Advisory

by persephone622



Series: Actions Speak Louder [6]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: But mostly fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, and i love them that way, cuz these two are fluffy, some suggestive talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone622/pseuds/persephone622
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Remy's first adventure during her trip to London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Advisory

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry for the long delay in updates! Life has been crazy lately. But I hope you enjoy this new Tom and Remy story. Just a lovely bit of fluff for you on this lazy Sunday. :-)

“I’ll be there at eight to pick you up tomorrow,” Luke stated. “I know you don’t want to go, but _please_. Try not to be late.”

I sighed and ran the fingers of my free hand through my hair, pausing to lean against the wall just outside the door to my flat. “Of course I don’t want to go,” I agreed, a definite hint of reproach in my voice. “Remy’s been here a total of three days and I’ve barely seen her.”

“The reshoots were not my fault, Tom” he replied, defensive. “And you both knew about the interviews. It will be _maybe_ three hours tomorrow morning and then you’re free to do whatever you want. Until the twenty-fifth.” He paused. “Have you asked her yet?”

“Was planning to tonight,” I said, feeling my stomach clench with a sudden attack of nerves. I straightened and unlocked the door. Nerves shifted to fear as the smell of burning filled my nose and tendrils of smoke drifted lazily through the room. “Luke, I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Eight o’clock, Tom!” he called, his voice soft as I lowered the phone and ended the call.

“Remy?” I strode towards the kitchen, the smoke getting thicker and making me cough. “Remy, where are you?” The shrill beeping of the smoke detector suddenly burst into the silence, making me jump. “Remy!”

“Tom!”

Pounding footsteps brought my attention to the hallway, Remy hurrying towards me with her fingers clasped tightly around a tea towel. “What happened?” I asked, fighting to be heard over the din and sighing in relief as I took in the sight of her.

She shook her head, gesturing that she’d explain later. “Open the windows?” she called back before stepping around me and clambering onto the counter, frantically waving the towel at the ceiling.

I obeyed, shivering slightly as cold air filtered in to replace smoky. “Careful!” Concern raced through me at the sight of her stretched to full height on the counter, arms reaching for the sky. She gave me a quick, calming smile through her arms, her motions unceasing. We both sighed as the incessant, grating sound finally quieted. “Are you all right?”

Remy nodded, climbing back down. “Fine,” she agreed. “A bit upset at myself and more than a little sorry that your entire place now smells like a camping trip gone horribly wrong.”

I waved off her concern as I moved to join her, my gaze sliding over her calculatingly. “I don’t care,” I murmured. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She gave me a reassuring smile. “Absolutely,” she soothed, reaching for me. “I missed you.”

I stepped into her embrace and instantly melted, the tension of sitting in a hotel room for hours on end easing under her gently stroking fingers. Burying my face in her hair, I inhaled deeply despite the lingering hint of acrid smoke. The familiar scent of her shampoo washed over me and I relaxed completely, my arms tightening around her briefly. “I missed you, too, sweetheart,” I breathed. I leaned back after a moment, reaching up to brush a few sweaty tendrils off her forehead, reveling in the sweet smile she gave me. “So, what happened?”

Remy flushed and sighed, physically deflating in my grasp. “Your oven hates me,” she pouted.

“It hates you,” I repeated, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.

She smacked my back playfully. “Yes,” she insisted. “I tried making cookies and look what happened!” She gestured to the room around us, the air still a bit hazy. “I blame you.”

“Me?” I exclaimed. “And why is that?”

“If you would just have a normal oven,” she complained.

I chuckled, arching an eyebrow. “I do have a normal oven, Remy,” I countered.

“Your temperature settings are _not_ normal.” She freed herself from my hold and stepped around me to glare at the offending appliance. “Who has a one-fourth temperature setting?”

“They’re called gas marks,” I explained, laughing softly, rewrapping my arms around her and pressing against her back, desperate to keep our contact. My lips brushed lightly against her neck and she sighed, leaning back against me. I rested my chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have shown you sooner, but with these interviews . . .” She ran her hands along my arms soothingly. “I’ll show you tomorrow, but generally, three is for baking cookies.”

A strangled, dismayed sound emerged from her throat. “You’re lucky you had a flat to come home to,” she exclaimed, turning in my grasp. “I had it set at eight.”

I smirked and shook my head, tugging her firmly against me and relishing the feel of her curves as they pressed against every line and crevice of my body. “The main question is, do you have any cookie dough left?” I asked.

She laughed and I thrilled to the sound, feeling the very last ounces of tension leave me as it echoed through the room. “Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You always pick up on the _important_ things, Hiddleston.” Her hypnotic blue-gray eyes sparkled with mischief and she smirked. “But there is one important thing you forgot, Thomas. Where is my hello?”

I grinned and leaned down to comply, my lips sliding easily and energetically over hers while her fingers delved deep into my hair. It had become a sort of requirement since our first greeting snog in the hallway, her kiss hello. One I was more than willing to adhere to.

My tongue darted out to trace along her lower lip before I sunk my teeth in gently, a soft almost breathless moan escaping as I pounced. One hand slid up to cup her head as I deepened the kiss, her tongue matching mine for every caress while her fingers flexed against my scalp. It was my turn to moan and she smiled, repeating the gesture.

With a gentle bump of my hips, I nudged her backwards, moving us until she met the counter, her body anchored between the sturdy granite and mine as I slowly rocked against her, denim scraping against denim with a teasing, torturous friction. “Hello,” I breathed, breaking the kiss and panting slightly.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, her eyes opening to reveal a slightly glassy gaze. “He-hello.” I reached up and cupped her cheek, gently stroking my thumb across her soft skin. “How was your day?”

I sighed. “Far too long,” I grumbled. “I hate that I have spent hardly any time with you. I wish I could just sweep you off to bed and keep you there.”

Remy flushed and bit her lip in a slightly self-conscious gesture. “Steady there, lover boy,” she chastised gently, smirking. “Just tomorrow morning left, right? And then I’m all yours.”

“Until the twenty-fifth,” I said automatically, the memory of my phone call to Luke suddenly playing in my mind.

“What?” Remy blinked up at me. “The twenty-fifth? What’s the twenty-fifth?”

My nerves returned with a vengeance and I stepped back, releasing her in favor of rubbing the back of my neck. Her look of utter confusion and slight hurt pierced me and I cleared my throat, forcing myself to forget the nervousness that gnawed happily at my gut. “I, uh, I have a premiere that night,” I explained. “For a friend’s film.”

She nodded slowly, her expression dropping for an instant before a strained smile slid across her features. “So a night in by myself, then,” she said softly.

“No!” I exclaimed, the word all but bursting from my lips. She stared at me. “I mean, only if you want to but . . . I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Her eyes bored into me, but warmth had replaced the confusion. “As your date?” she asked tentatively.

“What else would you go as?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t take you as anything else.” A sinking feeling washed over me. “You don’t have to go, I just thought . . . _oof_!” The air left my lungs as Remy launched herself towards me, arms wrapping around my middle as she buried her face against my chest. I smiled. “Does that mean yes?”

She leaned back and beamed up at me. “Absolutely!” she agreed. “Whose film?”

“Ben’s,” I said. “And Chris and Elsa mentioned they’d be coming as well. So you won’t have to spend the whole night stuck with your boring boyfriend.”

A mocking relieved sigh slipped past her lips and she barely contained a smirk as she met my gaze. “Thank goodness,” she breathed. “I mean, what would we do, just us alone?”

Her suggestive tone was not lost on me and I grinned, teeth bared lasciviously. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” I said, leaning down and peppering her neck and throat with barely-there kisses. She sighed happily, the sound turning into a moan as I found that perfect spot just beneath her ear and teased it, nipping and sucking until the skin darkened. My hands slid down to cup her backside, giving the perfect, firm globes a significant squeeze and making her inhale sharply.

Remy arched, rotating her hips almost unconsciously against me and making me groan at the friction against my pulsing arousal. “I bet I can guess what those ideas are,” she teased, her fingers once again digging into my scalp.

“Can you?” I returned, smirking. “Where’s the cookie dough, love?”

She blinked at me, caught off guard. “Um, in the fridge,” she replied. “You want to make cookies _now_?”

I simply grinned and moved to grab it, turning back in time to watch her perch herself on the counter, legs dangling against the cupboards. “Not make them, no,” I stated. I set the bowl down beside her and tore off the plastic wrap, a spicy smell wafting through the hint of smoke that lingered. “Are these your mother’s oatmeal spice cookies?”

Remy nodded, smiling brightly. “I know they’re your favorite,” she agreed. “I wanted to do something nice, since you were so upset about the interviews.”

I grasped her knees and nudged her legs apart, tucking myself securely between her thighs. My hands cupped her face and I pulled her close, kissing her firmly. Her fingers wrapped around my wrists and she melted, a small thrill shooting through me at the fact that my touch had so strong an effect over her. And the effect was absolutely mutual, her caresses leaving me little more than a puddle on more than one occasion. “Thank you,” I breathed when I finally pulled back.

She hummed in response. “I’m baking every day for the rest of my stay, if that’s the thanks I get,” she quipped, my lips easily returning her grin. “You’re welcome.” Her grip tightened around my arm as I started to pull it away. “But you can’t.”

I arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Can’t what?”

“There are eggs in that, Tom,” she chastised. “You can’t eat it raw.”

“And how many sneaky spoonfuls did you consume before you saw fit to burn down my flat?” I teased. She flushed and ducked her head, making me chuckle. With a slight twist, I broke free of her grasp and scooped up a healthy amount of dough with my finger. “Besides, why would I pass up the opportunity to taste my two favorite things at the same time?” I tugged her shirt aside and dragged my finger along her collarbone, the light colored dough almost blending in with her creamy skin. She shuddered with the cold contact.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips before I leaned down and pulled it across the line of dough, lapping gently to get every inch of oatmeal. Remy sighed, her legs squeezing gently around my hips. “Mmm,” I moaned. “I think I’ve found my new favorite way to eat cookies.”

She laughed and pulled me up to meet her lips for a brief kiss, the sound bubbling over my tongue and settling deep inside. “Just not too many,” she warned. “You _will_ get sick.”

“Of you? Never,” I countered. Remy beamed and I kissed her again, pushing aside all thoughts of work and letting myself be consumed by the woman I loved.


End file.
